


The Archer

by Whatta_Peach



Series: Help Me Hold On To You [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Compliant, Could Be Canon, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Meetings, First Time, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Prison, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 04:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20303392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatta_Peach/pseuds/Whatta_Peach
Summary: After the Glorious Revolution, Aziraphale is assigned a new position: to guard a captive named Crawly. This is where their story begins and, momentarily, ends.





	The Archer

  
“Not much further now,” the archangel spoke over his shoulder, a heavenly glow illuminating his features - the only light permeating the darkness.  


Aziraphale gave a weak smile and nod even though he was sure Gabriel couldn’t see it. This darkness was supernatural, growing even darker with every step they took. He hadn’t even known a place like this existed within Heaven.  
Aziraphale twisted his hands nervously in his tunic. If he had a heart he would have expected it to be jackhammering out of his chest at this moment.  


No one had explained to him what he was doing with the archangel Gabriel. He had simply been told to meet at a certain spot at a certain time. When Gabriel showed up and motioned for him to follow, he almost disobeyed. Surely this was a mistake. What in Heaven would an archangel need with a low-ranking angel such as himself? But, angels were made to follow and he did so with only a breath’s pause.  
The darkness had grown so thick that even their heavenly glows only reached out an inch ahead, which is why Aziraphale didn’t see Gabriel stop and walked straight into him.  


“Come now, Aziraphale.” Gabriel said sinisterly polite, stopping the rushed apology before it could escape his lips. “Not in front of the guest.”  
It was then that Aziraphale saw the dim outline of cell bars in the faint glow. A step closer and he could make out the jagged shapes of angelic runes carved into unearthly metal. Shapes that became more discernible by moment as they began to shine brightly, piercing the dark, shining burning light on a figure that had not been there before.  


“We caught him at the battle before he could slither off with the rest of the traitors. Can’t let them all have fun in Hell now can we?” Gabriel said with a dark chuckle stepping even closer to the bars and tapping them with a knuckle.  


Aziraphale blinked, words caught in his throat. _Why am I here? Why is Gabriel showing me this?_  


“Oh Gabriel, don’t be mad because you weren’t invited to the party.” a voice, his voice. It was an easy cadence, smooth with no cares in the world, but spiced with sarcasm and wit.  


Aziraphale could not stop his smile from being coaxed out.  


“Shut your mouth, Snake.” Gabriel said almost bemusedly as he laid his hand over one of the sigils and a great burst of light exploded within the cell.  


Aziraphale covered his eyes quickly but still heard the demon’s cry as he was pushed back into the prison.  


When the blaze had faded, Aziraphale lowered his arms and heard a ragged panting. “T-Tha-... That’s not how you make f-friends, Gabriel.”  


The demon was still alive. Aziraphale let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  


As he resituated and willed the shock away, Aziraphale realized that Gabriel was now staring at him expectantly.  


“Umm…” he gave an awkward smile again and looked between the archangel and the dark cell. Apparently, there was something he was not getting.  


Gabriel raised his arms and a grin broke out across his angelic face, “Congratulations!”  


“Ummm…” Aziraphale said a little bit louder.  


This time there was no hiding the exasperation in Gabriel’s voice as he said, “You’ve been promoted! You are now, and forever will be, Aziraphale, Principality of the Demon Cell… or whatever…”  


With that he lowered arms, patted the newly minted Principality on the shoulder, and left without another word.  


Objections rattled around noisily in Aziraphale’s head. _You can’t just leave me here! How is this a promotion? I don’t want to be in the darkness forever!_  


But he couldn’t falter. Angels were made to follow and now he was stuck in the darkness with the enemy… forever.  


It could have been moments, or it could have been years, before his voice said, “Well, that went down like a lead balloon.”  


After Gabriel had left, Aziraphale had discovered that he had been stationed in a narrow hallway, no chairs, no comfort were lit in his heavenly glow. So, he had leaned against the opposing wall from the cell and slid down to the floor in misery.  


He couldn’t even summon the nerve to tell the demon to be quiet.  


In the dark, sigils started to glow dimly. Before long, the room was set ablaze in their light.  


Aziraphale watched as the demon moved forward slowly, with every step becoming more illuminated.  


He hadn’t been able to see his face clearly before but it was definitely not what the angel had been expecting. He was quite handsome even with the slitted, yellow snake eyes befitting a demon. But, his angular features and auburn curls made him look more angelic than anything.  
Even more angelic than Gabriel.  


Aziraphale shooed the thought away before he followed his line of thinking down the rabbit hole and stood, meeting the demon’s gaze.  


“Can I help you with something?” Aziraphale asked trying to sound contrite and failing.  


“Yes, you could get me the Hell out of this dump for one.” The demon smirked. “Then, we could go for a nice glass of Red, maybe even a Brandy.”  


Aziraphale could feel a blush rising on his face and chastised himself for letting the demon get to him. He was an angel for goodness sake. He’d better start acting like one.  


“Get back, fiend.” He put as much vitriol into his voice as possible, raising his hand towards the bars in a threat.  


The demon’s eyes widened, revealing more citrine, and a laugh peeled out of him.  


But, Aziraphale still noticed him take a step backwards.  


“You’re funny, angel.” he said with a snort. Aziraphale couldn’t tell if he was mocking him or not but it was more than likely. “I think you and I are going to get along.”  


“We will not.” the angel said with a high keen he hadn’t meant to come out.  


The demon raised his eyebrows and began to scrutinize him. Aziraphale watched as his eyes raked up and down his body, his mouth set crookedly on his face.  


“Stop that.” Aziraphale said quietly, glancing away, wanting to run back into the light.  


“Just looking.” he said so quietly and gently that it made Aziraphale’s non-existent heart do strange things.  


_Can angels throw up? Is that a thing? Is that what’s happening?_  


Aziraphale swallowed hard and returned to his spot against the wall. “Go away, demon. Leave me be.” So much sadness permeated his voice that he knew there was no use hiding it.  


A beat before, “Oh come on, I can’t be that bad company.” The angel watched as his lithe body crouched down and sat on the floor directly across from him. “We’re in this together.” He flashed an incandescent smile at Aziraphale whose non-heart created sickening waves in his chest again.  


“We shouldn’t be. I mean, you deserve this but what did I do?” The whining felt good, it felt right. It released every emotion of hopelessness and desolation that coursed throughout his body.  


“Oh, Satan. Is this how angels are now? I don’t remember being this pathetic.”  


“Excuse me?”  


“You’re supposed to be God’s mightiest warriors and you’re whining about being stuck down here with me for eternity. How is that supposed to make _me_ feel?” He spat, a sneer marring his face.  


“You have no right to judge me! I f-fought for Her and we won. Forgive me if I think it a bit unjust if I have to be stuck down here with you for eternity.” He paused, then, “You should be happy, you know.”  


A quirked eyebrow. “Why’s that, angel?”  


Aziraphale blinked before muttering, “You get to torture me with your inane questions and I have to answer them if I ever want to talk again.”  


Their eyes met through the bars and they both fell victim to a fit of giggles, the demon falling over on his side and bringing a hand to his forehead. The laughter was misplaced and felt alien in such a place filled with despair but was wholly welcome to the angel.  


_It might not be so bad… if we get to laugh like that._ He thought with a sigh.  


“Do you have a name, demon?” Aziraphale asked softly after they had settled.  


Auburn curls popped up as he adjusted himself to meet the angel’s eyes again. “They call me Crawly… but that’s not my real name. Would you like to know it?”  


Aziraphale’s mouth went dry and his hands trembled slightly. This was all so new, so intriguing, and raw. He wanted to stop these swooping sensations in his stomach but also wanted to feed into them. It was too much and, yet, not enough. This demon, Crawly, was awakening something inside of him that he didn’t know angels were capable of. He had the distinct feeling that he was at a crossroads now, even more than before when he was following Gabriel into a pit of night. This… this was a deciding moment.  


He wanted to know.  


“Tell me.”  


A mischievous light was shining through the demon’s eyes. “You have to come closer.” His voice was light, teasing, but edged with something fierce.  


Aziraphale hesitated. “Why?”  


“Walls have ears.” Crawly said with a broad gesture at the empty dark around them. “It’s a secret name, you know.”  


Aziraphale gave a small huff of laughter and picked himself up off the floor before crouching down again in front of the cell.  


“Do tell, my dear.” he teased, coming so naturally that it surprised himself.  


Crawly’s mouth dropped open in a little gap and Aziraphale revelled in the fact that he had surprised the tempter. His eyes shone brightly in the searing light of the bars, but he didn’t flinch from Aziraphale’s gaze.  


_How beautiful you are._ The angel couldn’t help but thinking with a mild flush of shame.  


“Come closer.” Crawly whispered leaning in seemingly forgetting about the dangers of the cell’s bars.  


Aziraphale leaned in with a smile pulling at his lips and listened as Crawly whispered his true demonic name into his hear.  


“Huh.” He said afterwards. “I find that _very_ fitting.”  


Crawly’s laugh could not wipe away the dumbstruck look on his face, as though he was shocked that the angel let him get that close.  


What Aziraphale didn’t tell him was that Crawly’s demonic name was beautiful, sent chills down his spine, and cut an ache deep within him.  


Just like Crawly himself did.  


Their days, if you could call them that, passed in much the same way after that. Crawly stayed close to the front of his cell while Aziraphale would transition from sitting nearby to sitting against the wall.  


The bars never dimmed.  


Eventually their eyes became accustomed to the darkness and Aziraphale could see that the bars of Crawly’s cell stretched on for what could have been miles. Miles and miles of nothing and dark.  


“Don’t suppose I can fly out of here, then.” Crawly said, stretching his inky wings behind him, staring up in the black.  


“No, I don’t think my side would let you out so easily.” Aziraphale surmised, stretching his own wings out. How long had it been since he last flown?  


“Well, I could try… See just how high is too high.” the demon’s tone took a sanguine turn. “I used to love flying before…”  


Aziraphale turned to look at him questioningly. Crawly’s mouth turned up at the corner, conveying what he wanted to ask but couldn’t.  


“You could try…” Aziraphale’s wings ached with want to feel the air beneath them and stretch to their full width. “And I suppose it would be my job to stop you.”  


Crawly’s dark chuckle tumbled down Aziraphale’s spine making his stomach pit. “Catch me if you can, angel.” There was a gust of air and the bars dimmed their lights.  


“You cheat!” Aziraphale teasingly accused.  


“Demon!” came the echoed answer.  


Aziraphale didn’t wait a second more and took off like a bullet chasing after the glow travelling up the bars.  


He found Crawly hovering lazily waiting for him. “Satan, you’re slow.”  


“You go too fast for me, my dear.”  


“Well, keep up.” he scoffed before jetting off ahead again.  


This time Aziraphale was able to keep pace with the demon and they soared higher and higher with no end of the cell in sight.  


Crawly inevitably began to show off. His wings shot out wide before he began to freefall and catch himself in an arching glide.  


Even flying as fast as they were, Aziraphale could still make out a look of pure bliss across his face.  


Crowley looked to the angel, met his gaze, and with a cocky grin shot off like a bullet. He climbed higher and higher until the glow of the bars became a speck. Aziraphale thought to give chase but decided to let the demon have his fun.  


He watched the glowing speck flit around in the dark, a firefly in the night, and felt his chest warm at the sight. He could almost picture Crawly in a crystal blue sky, white wings spread out wide, the sun setting his red hair ablaze. The image so sharp in his mind and he drowned in the beauty of it like a drunk.  


Aziraphale had been so intoxicated in his daydream that he didn’t realize immediately that the glowing speck giving away Crawly’s position had disappeared.  


“Crawly?” He asked the dark, eyes scrambling to find his charge. When no answer came, Aziraphale thrust himself upward to see if he simply got too far ahead.  


After a few minutes of soaring higher and seeing nothing, panic seeped in.  


“Crawly!” Aziraphale shouted, this time his voice teetered on a scream. Again, there was nothing. The angel’s throat constricted like a vice making it hard for him to breathe. He felt himself wobble in the air, losing control. Alone in the dark, fear caressed him like a patient lover.  


_If I lose him what will Gabriel do?_ He asked himself, creating a reason as to why he was now experiencing an all encompassing fear that was making him overwhelmingly nauseous.  


_Oh God, where is he?_ Short breaths ripped through him in staggering bursts. He raised his hand and lowered his forehead hoping to get control of himself when he saw it.  


A glimmer, down below, so far or faint that it could have been a trick of the shadows. Hope slammed down hard through Aziraphale and propelled him towards the light. The only thought running through his head was Crawly’s name.  


The angel landed harder than intended but didn’t falter as he rushed towards the bars where he saw Crawley sprawled on his cell’s floor. One hand reaching out towards the bars causing the glow Aziraphale had seen from above. A silent cry for help.  


Aziraphale’s stomach pitched sharply at the sight and he couldn’t hold back the stammer, “C-Crawly, what happened?” He approached the bars searching desperately for a way to get to him.  


He had to get to him.  


“Crawly.” He called to no response, and then a bit sharper, “Crawly, I need you to come closer.”  


There was no movement from the demon. Aziraphale couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. Desperation possessed him now and he slammed his body as close as physically possible to the bars, thrusting his hand forward. Against the cool metal, Aziraphale could feel the cold sweat that broke through on his forehead. It ran down slicking his cheeks where it met with the hot tears now escaping from the corner of his eyes . He hadn’t realized he’d been crying until now.  


_Get it together!_ He snapped at himself. “Crawly, grab my hand! I can’t perform a miracle to heal you unless I touch you!”  


Aziraphale didn’t know what he was expecting when he reached through the bars clinging onto the last vestiges of hope. All signs pointed to Crawly being dead, since the sigils prevented discorporation within the cell, but Aziraphale was not the type of angel to let one of Her creatures die before his very eyes. It was probably what got him the assignment in the first place.  


He would not let Crawly die. Not today. Not ever.  


“Crawly, please… I-I need you… I need you to do this for me because I can’t…”  


A twitch, and then the demon’s hand reach forward slowly towards the angel’s. Aziraphale couldn’t stop the sob of happiness from escaping his throat. He was alive.  


“That’s it, darling.” Aziraphale encouraged, reaching painfully closer.  


“A-angel…” Crawly croaked and barely brushed the tips of his fingers to Aziraphale’s.  


He could feel Crawly’s pain, immense, all encompassing, and searing. What happened to you? He thought. What terrible thing was lurking up there that we didn’t know about?  


He searched with his celestial powers to find the source of Crawly’s injury, but there was none. The pain was everywhere.  


_Oh, bollocks._ Aziraphale cursed before slamming as much healing power as possible into Crawly’s mangled body.  


The demon glowed in heavenly light as Aziraphale poured his power into him, emptying himself. After only a moment, he could feel Crawly’s pain subside and watched as the demon stirred behind the bars.  


Aziraphale dropped his hand and fell backwards away from the demon, exhaustion consuming him, as Crawly’s yellow eyes met his in overt worry.  


“Angel!” he cried as he watched Aziraphale smile and collapse, falling into a new darkness.  


He couldn’t say how much time had passed before he’d woken up, only that it had been significant.  


Aziraphale had never slept before, had never been discorporated or been knocked unconscious in battle. He had to admit it was not altogether unpleasant. He was lying on his back in front of Crawly’s cell, the sigils were burning white hot scourging the darkness with their jagged lights.  


He stared up at them for what felt like a long time, orienting himself back to his body. His legs, his shoulders, his arms, and his hands. One of which was touching something rough and warm.  


Crawly was lying on his side within his cell facing Aziraphale. He was so close to the bars that his cheeks were pinked from the heat radiating off the sigils. He was awake but his yellow eyes were cast downwards, not meeting Aziraphale but looking at their intertwined hands instead.  


The demon had stretched his hand out through the bars and had interlaced their fingers together. His hand was rough with calluses from war, but also warm and gentle, it’s grip firm but not tight.  


“You’ve been out for a while, angel. Did you have sweet dreams?” His voice was teasing, but Aziraphale could sense the weight of anxiety hiding in his words.  


“Don’t you worry about me. What happened up there, Crawly? Is there some sort of creature that attacked you? A celestial spell or rune? What ab-”  


“There wasn’t anything. I just flew too high.” Crawly’s voice was a deadpan, but he wasn’t lying. There was an old sadness that he couldn’t hide lacing every word.  


“But… Crawly, there was no ceiling. Nothing! We could have flown for miles!”  


The demon sat up abruptly and snatched his hand away from Aziraphale. He immediately missed it’s warmth and felt as though something more had been taken away from him.  


Crawly’s voice was acidic when he spoke, “You really are daft aren’t you? Of all of God’s great buggering warriors they had to choose you to saddle me with for eternity.”  


Aziraphale sat up and felt hot shame pour through him. “Well you don’t need to be so tetchy. I was only worried about you.” Crawly started, but Aziraphale cut him off with a, “Nope, say no more! I’ll just be over here. Making sure you don’t kill yourself anytime in the next eternity.”  


“Dramatic and dense! Wow, She really knows how to make them now!”  


“Clearly! Since I’m still an angel and you aren’t!”  


Aziraphale hit a mark with that one and watched as his words cut deep across Crawly’s features. He immediately wished he hadn’t said anything and turned his face away in regret, not wanting to see the hurt simmering in the demon’s eyes.  


“Sorry.” he muttered after a moment of silence. “That was too much.”  


“S’fine.”  


Another long pause of silence passed. Aziraphale still refused to look at Crawly and wished the demon would retreat to his cell so that he could pretend he wasn’t there.  


“Fallen angels can’t fly too high or we’re punished. It’s a reminder that we aren’t allowed close to Her anymore.” Crawly said with a sigh. The revelation caused Aziraphale’s stomach to plummet with the sick truth of it. A fissure erupted where his heart would have been. “I just forgot. That’s all.”  


He felt like he might cry again. “My dear, that’s… that’s awful.” To not have the freedom to fly where you wanted, Aziraphale couldn’t imagine such heartbreak.  


“Well, being a demon can’t be all tempting and hedonism, angel. We’re meant to punished.” The biting wit had returned. Aziraphale breathed a laugh but still refused to face Crawly. Now, he was afraid of what the demon might see written on his face.  


“Look at me, Aziraphale.” it was said so softly it bordered on a whisper.  


The angel raised his head to look at the demon whose eyes flickered up and down his face, searching. “Are you alright?”  


Aziraphale hesitated, the lie already building on his tongue, when his wall came crashing down around him. Looking at Crawly, who was staring so earnestly at him, he found that he no longer contained the willpower to lie.  


“No, Crawly. I don’t think I am. I… If I’m being honest… with you… I think I might be failing at this whole angel thing. I’m quite scared to be frank. Of falling and all that.”  


The burden he’d been carrying around with him for what could have been eons finally lifted and Aziraphale could have cried in relief. Tears bubbled hotly in the corners of his eyes at the release of his worry. He’d never said it out loud before, not even to himself.  


Crawly’s mouth was pursed in a tight line and his eyes narrowed analytically. “I don’t think you’d be a good demon, angel. You’re too… cookie? Is cookie the right word? Sweet?” He rambled before continuing, “Anyways, what makes you think you’re going to fall?”  


Aziraphale flushed at the unintended compliment and heaved a great sigh, “At the final battle between Heaven and Hell, I… I couldn’t do it.”  


“Do what?”  


“Kill!” He cried desperately, partly out of shame, mostly out of frustration. “I couldn’t bring myself to kill demons! The whole business was so ugly. Why couldn’t we just, you know, talk it out? I know I’m made to obey, but I’m also made to love! So, I... feigned... following directions.”  


Crawly looked like he’d been smacked dumbstruck. His sharp appearance now comically softened by how wide his eyes and mouth were gaping. “What?” seemed to be the only word he was capable of forming.  


Aziraphale scoffed. “Don’t you judge me. You have no rig-”  


“I’m not judging you, you bean, I did the same bloody thing!”  


Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to stare in awe at his companion. “You what?”  


“During the battle, the bloodshed, I, kinda, turned into a snake and… slithered away. Wanted to take a nap and wait for the whole thing to blow over. Still got caught by your side though for all the good it did. You?”  


“I was meant to be a part of the charge, but Iingered behind. Pretended I had to tie my sandals.” He laughed at the memory. “When no one was watching I made it look like I had been knocked out. Don’t think I fooled anyone though, since I’m stuck here with you.”  


Crawly had fallen backwards he was laughing so hard, clutching his sides like a maniac. Aziraphale tried acting petulant but gave way to his own fit of giggles.  


They laughed for several minutes before subsiding into deep breaths and relaxing in the comforting cadence of one another’s company. Alone, but bound together in a fate they had created all on their own.  


“Whose side on we on, my dear. If we’re not willing to fight, one way or the other, for good or for evil. What does that make us?” Aziraphale pondered out loud.  


“I think that makes us on _our_ own side, angel.” Crawly chuckled, his voice was dark but not menacing. It sauntered through the air and dripped like honey down Aziraphale’s spine, settling low in his belly.  


Looking at Crawly, Aziraphale ached to touch him again, to be as close as he possibly could to the demon and know that he wasn’t alone. He knew, then and there, that Crawly would never make him do anything that he didn’t want to do, demon or not. Unlike Gabriel, unlike God, unlike so many.  


Without saying a word, Aziraphale scooted closer to the bars before him and rested his head on the cool metal. Crawly was stock still on the other side before shaking himself gently and mechanically moving forward towards the angel.  


The bars glowed so brightly that their color shifted hue from white to blue as Crawly leaned his head in.  


Between two bars, their foreheads touched and nose tips brushed against one another. They were silent, out of necessity and fear that the bubble they built around them would burst. That this moment might fade away.  


Aziraphale’s skin burned with invisible fire, forging himself into someone new. A creature who knew not only of God’s love, but his own. Something had cracked open within him the day he first saw Crawly and it had been altering him ever since, tightening like a vice around his very soul before snapping and releasing an explosion within himself. He wanted to embrace the change, to never look back at what he once was, and evolve into a higher power.  


A power capable of giving love and receiving it in turn.  


Crawly’s breath hit his lips, so close and inviting, begging for Aziraphale to desecrate them with his own. The world did not know sin yet, but he was ready to introduce it if it meant knowing what demon’s lips tasted like.  


“Are you going to hurt me, angel?” Crawly whispered, breath caressing the sensitive skin across Aziraphale’s lips.  


He chuckled softly. “Yes, I’d shoot you out of the sky with an arrow to keep you here with me.”  


“Wouldn’t take you for an archer. I’d wager you have terrible aim. Better fitted for a sword.” Crawly murmured, creeping even closer so that Aziraphale could taste the words rolling off his tongue.  


“That would still make you my prey, my dear.” Aziraphale was trembling so hard with want that he believed he would discorporate if this continued. 

He gripped the bars separating them tightly to steady himself. He wanted to reach out and grab Crawly, but he wasn’t sure how he would react and didn’t want to scare him away.  


Crawly’s hand came up then and covered his own causing Aziraphale to spasm when his thumbs made soothing circles on his flaming skin.  


“Angel, you-” he started, but Aziraphale couldn’t take it anymore, threw caution to the wind, and closed the distance between them.  


Crawly was hot, his lips scorched Aziraphale’s own in their mission to claim every inch of his skin that they touched. Liquid electricity thundered through his core when Crawly opened his mouth and bit down on Aziraphale’s plump lower lip eliciting a moan that would have made Michael fall.  


His tongue snaked its way into the angel’s mouth and explored, tasting him and rejoicing in it. The contact only broke for a split second when Crawly repositioned himself so that he was completely flushed against the bars and used his free hand to reach through, grab Aziraphale by the collar and pull him even closer.  


When their lips met again, Aziraphale could feel the ache between them to become even closer - to become one. Heat was pooling low within him causing flames to eat him alive. He didn’t know what was happening, but his instincts told him only Crawly would be able to assuage his wounds.  


The hand that wasn’t gripping Aziraphale’s on the bars released his collar and began to drift downward, touching his body in a way nothing ever had before. Crawly’s hand caressed and stroked his shoulder, flattened across his chest, and moved delicately down his stomach where it stopped low above his hips.  


It was too much, if they stopped now Aziraphale would weep at the pain from losing him. “Crawly…” he gasped into the demon’s mouth, trying to formulate words, begging him to understand what Aziraphale didn’t know to ask. Instead, the angel reached through the bars with his own free hand, grabbed the back of his head, and pressed him even closer so that the metal bruised both their faces.  


Crawly seemed to be able to sense what it was that he needed because he dropped his hand lower and brushed against a part of Aziraphale that sent an earthquake through him.  


“_Crawly!_” he breathed, throwing his head certain that he was about to shatter.  


“No, angel,” he murmured against his exposed throat. “Say my other name. My _true name_.” he ordered and brushed his palm again over the spot between Aziraphale’s legs.  


_What a magnificent way to die._ Aziraphale thought as he whispered Crawly’s true name into the black void around them.  


Another brush, this time firmer, and Aziraphale spoke his name again louder.  


Again, and again, and again until…  


“I-I-... something’s happening.” Aziraphale sobbed. Whatever Crawly was doing, it felt so good that Aziraphale was now thrusting into the demon’s hand of his own accord. “Crawly… I don’t know what to do.”  


The demon brushed his hand against the angel one last time, leaned up, and whispered in his ear, “_Fall._”  


Pleasure ripped through Aziraphale like he had never experienced before - like no one had experienced before. Waves upon waves hit him possessing his body, the only thought he could conceive was a picture of auburn curls and yellowed eyes. He could have been screaming or he could have been completely silent, but he was unable to tell over the loud ringing in his ears. His wings had completely unfurled behind him stretching out, uncontrolled, and encompassed the hall.  


The dam had broken and Aziraphale felt blissful calm pulse through his veins, calming the fire that consumed his soul.  


Everything, except for the scorching heat of the cell’s bars that was now blistering his skin. One glance at the pulsating green light communicated to Aziraphale exactly what was about to happen.  


He barely had time to scream, “_CRAWLY, GET DOWN!_” before the cell erupted in a flood of heat and incandescence.  


Aziraphale was thrown backward into the wall, knocking the wind out of him. Jagged pain broke along where his spine had connected to the wall first. The light was blinding, like the Sun had crashed down upon them. It burned for what felt like hours before fading out of existence.  


It took a few minutes before Aziraphale was able to catch his breath and orient himself to his body, checking to see if anything had been broken. When he discerned that nothing had been, he blinked rapidly to futilely clear the color bursts dancing across his eyes, which still remained even though the light from the bars had dimmed.  


“Crawly?” He asked in what he thought to be the demon’s general direction. Aziraphale picked himself up and began stumbling blindly, hands outstretched, towards the cell. “Crawly!” he called again more urgently.  


A strained groan, and then, “Over here, angel. Satan save us. You could have told me to stop! You didn’t have to get all explode-y on me.”  


“My dear,” Aziraphale answered, walking unsteadily forward towards Crawly’s voice. “You’ll have to forgive me I was a bit… umm… occupied.”  


“Yeah, you were.” Aziraphale could hear the smirk in his voice.  


“Now, don’t praise yourself too much. I’m fairly certain that you would have been following in my footsteps had we not exploded ourselves.” He responded with a laugh.  


“Well, who says we can’t pick up where we left off?” Crawly’s voice was much closer now, maybe a foot ahead of him. Aziraphale now waved his arms up and down grasping for the bars he was sure to run into.  


His palms hit something hard, but not metal. It was flat, and warm, and rising up and down.  


“Angel?” the warmth spoke in Crawly’s voice.  


Aziraphale’s not-heart began slamming around in his chest, his mind numb and not accepting the possibility of what was standing right before him.  


He stood stock still and surprisingly didn’t jump when Crawly snapped his fingers and a flame sparked to life above them, lighting up the now open room around them. Aziraphale’s eyes roamed their surroundings, still assessing and trying to understand what had just happened. A cursory glance showed no evidence of there ever being a demon cell, or whatever, existing.  


Finally, his eyes met Crawly’s who was still processing their situation. His mouth perched in a way that conveyed both his worry and enjoyment at this new turn of events. “Well, would you get a load of that. Looks like I’m free.”  


Aziraphale didn’t even deign to breathe. He told himself he knew Crawly, had trusted himself with his very being, but still was unprepared for how the demon would react to newly obtained freedom. Maybe he would hit him over his head and make a run for it, never to be seen by Aziraphale again.  
The thought made his heart ache with emptiness. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it if Crawly left him, better to get ahead of it.  


“Well… off you go then.” Aziraphale removed his hands from the demon’s chest and stepped to the side, gesturing politely with an open palm.  


Crawly stared at him quizzically and a little offended. “That’s it? You’re telling me to get out. After what we did!”  


Aziraphale could feel his blush rise to his hairline but remained still, sure he would take him up on the offer to run any moment now. When Crawly planted his feet firmly to indicate he wasn’t leaving just yet, Aziraphale dropped his hand.  


“What do you want to do then, my dear.” he sighed exasperatedly. This day had taken quite a lot out of him. He had few new daydreams to mull over now.  


“Oh you know what I want.” Crawly purred seductively, taking a step forward, hips first. “But, we don’t have time for that. We’re, as your lot are want to say, in a jam.”  


“Whatever do you mean?”  


“When you refused to kill my lot, you got sentenced to watch over me in nothingness for an eternity. How do you think your bosses are gonna react when they find out that I rocked your world? So much so that you destroyed my lodging.” Crawly had settled his hands on Aziraphale’s hips and pulled him forward so that they aligned with his.  


Aziraphale trembled at the memory of said world rocking, but felt his not-heart drop at the truth of Crawly’s revelation.  


_What would Gabriel do?_ “Oh, dear God. We’re doomed.” He bemoaned.  


Crawly was quiet for a long time, lost in contemplation while Aziraphale anxiously ran through scenarios in his head. The demon’s eyes seemed to be following the trail of his hands as his ran them up and down Aziraphale’s sides.  


“I know what we can do to save our skins, but neither of us is going to like it.” he finally gritted out. His face was marred with pain.  


“What is it, my dear.” Aziraphale asked, at this point, willing to try anything.  


Crawly muttered a few incomprehensible syllables before resigning and spewing in one breath, “I erase your memories of me, replace them with new false ones so your bosses can’t miracle the truth out of you, leave you here, and make it look like I escaped.”  


A long pause then, “No. No. Absolutely not.”  


Crawly groaned but Aziraphale just pleaded more loudly. “We just found each other! How am I supposed to go on knowing you’re out there!”  


“That’s the point, you won’t! I’ll just be some demon whose face you can’t recall. You won’t remember me!”  


Aziraphale stammered, hopelessness pouring over him in cold fingers. “Please… we could run off… together.”  


“We can’t escape them, Aziraphale. They’ll find us, and when they do, they’ll torture us and then kill us. I can’t let you die.”  


“Take me with you then.” He sounded absurd, like a child. He had to make Crawly see, to understand, that this was not the way.  


“My lot will kill you on sight then call me a traitor for bringing you to Hell. They won’t listen.” The resignation in his voice is what scared Aziraphale the most. It conveyed an immovable determination that told him that the demon could see no other recourse. The futility of their situation crashed down around them, making Aziraphale feel incomprehensibly small. The only other solution he could see was, perhaps, even worse.  


“Then I’ll fal-” Aziraphale couldn’t finish the sentence due to Crawly’s hand slapping across his mouth.  


“Don’t you dare ssssssay that,” he actually hissed, shaking him gently with frustration, “I won’t allow it.” He waited a beat while searching Aziraphale’s eyes beseechingly, pleading with him to get a grip.  


Fat, hot tears now rolled freely down Aziraphale’s face and pooled on the top of Crawly’s hand. He began shaking as sobs wracked his body.  


“Don’t cry. Please…” Crawly removed his hand only to pull Aziraphale close to him, soothing the back of his head. “Please, angel. Don’t cry.”  


“I’ll… I’ll… never talk to you again!” He wailed miserably, gripping tightly onto Crawly’s black tunic, holding him in place.  


“That’s not true either. I’m going to find you, and when I do, you’ll get your memories back. You’ll see.” Crawly pressed a firm kiss to the angel’s temple. His words created a buoy of hope that Aziraphale grappled to keep from drowning in despair.  


“Promise?” He whispered the vow like he already expected it to be broken.  


“Swear it.” Another kiss, this one lingered, before he pulled back and broke into a forced smile. “Besides, I didn’t get my turn. Don’t think that I will forget it.”  


Aziraphale blubbered out a sob before pulling Crawly closer and resting his cheek against his shoulder. “Do it now or I’ll never let you.”  


“You couldn’t stop me if you tried.” the demon whispered lovingly into the top of the angel’s head, petting his hair down.  


“I’m the archer, remember.” Aziraphale muttered, using these last moments to desperately try and memorize the feel of Crawly against him.  


“I’ll see you soon, angel.”  


A snap, then Aziraphale fell, welcomed with open arms into pitched oblivion.

#### Epilogue

Eden was very beautiful, though, Aziraphale supposed he had nothing to compare it to.  


The garden was filled with lush greens, simmering with life. Some new creature seemed to make itself known everyday. So often so, that Aziraphale created a game where he would try and guess what new creature he would see next. So far, he had only been right twice.  


He was very, very lonely.  


Of course there were the humans who could communicate, but Aziraphale wasn’t supposed to talk to them, he was supposed to guard the Eastern Gate, and angels were made to obey.  


Gabriel had given him very strict instructions about his new post. No interacting with any life whatsoever. No leaving your post. Use the sword against any foes. But, if he wasn’t allowed to get close to the creatures how could protect the garden? It was all deeply confusing. From his post stationed high overlooking the garden he thought he’d be better off with a bow and arrows.  


But that wasn’t up to him to decide.  


He couldn’t complain though, really. He had a lovely view of this new world, and he was enjoying watching the humans live their lives and fall in love. 

Although, he couldn’t stand to watch them for too long. Everytime he lost himself in observing their flirtations, an empty fissure cascaded down his chest and a faint echo would sound through him, but he couldn’t tell what of. It was almost as though a part of him was missing and he needed to find it.  


He couldn’t fathom where to begin. He had asked Gabriel and Michael about it, but they just scoffed and told him the demon that had assaulted him during the Great Battle, which caused his memory gaps, had messed with his mind. They told him to move on and be thankful that he had been saved before more damage had been done. Aziraphale had wanted to argue, but that’s not how things were done in Heaven. So, he did his job and tried to be content.  


But, good Lord, he was so very lonely.  


The days in Eden passed in much the same manner. Aziraphale would spot a new creature (yesterday it had been a Giraffe), observe the humans, and walk the perimeter of the garden looking for foes to fend off.  


There never were any. He had to lie and tell himself that this was a good thing and that he couldn’t welcome new company anyway.  


Then, one day, a snake showed up.  


It was huge and black, and it enjoyed lounging around the apple tree God said strictly not to touch.  


Aziraphale wanted to go down and shoo it somewhere else, even though he couldn’t, and he swore that the snake almost seemed to be mocking him, tempting him to come down for a closer look.  


The angel looked down now to the tree and saw, even at a distance, yellow eyes staring up at him. Most creatures didn’t seem to have a plan, but this snake was definitely up to something.  


There was nothing he could do. The humans knew to stay away from the apple tree and he would just have to rely on their senses. Best just to ignore the scaled thing and continue about his business.  


A few days later, Aziraphale discovered how wrong he could be when everything went pear-shaped.  


The snake, as it turned out, had been a demon infiltrating Heaven’s defenses all along. The wily tempter had coaxed Eve into partaking in the forbidden fruit and now Earth’s first family had been exiled from Eden.  


_They’re going to die out there._ Aziraphale thought forlornly as he watched the two humans make their way towards his gate. _All alone in the world with nothing. No one, but themselves. I know what that feels like._  


He didn’t try to fight the urge that overtook him, but instead let it propel him forward towards outcasts.  


Gabriel had only said that he had to use the sword on foes. Well, these weren’t foes and he wasn’t using it. He was giving it away.  


Later on, as he watched Adam and Eve wander into the desert, he worried that maybe he had done the wrong thing. If he had, would this be enough to cause him to fall? He hoped not.  


_I don’t think I’d make a very good demon._  


He hadn’t immediately noticed the snake slither up behind him and transform silently into an auburn haired, high cheek-boned, black feathered demon. Aziraphale gave a little start, ready to make a bolt for it, but cautiously relaxed when he noticed the easy manner of his new companion.  


“Well, that went down like a lead balloon.” the demon dead-panned.  


Aziraphale gave him an awkward smile, thrown off by the overwhelming feeling of deja vu.  


He didn’t know how he should react. He couldn’t fight without his sword, and, besides, the demon didn’t seem to want to fight. He seemed to be expecting a conversation instead.  


“Sorry,” the angel stammered, “What was that?”  


The demon repeated himself and Aziraphale reluctantly engaged him in conversation, hoping it wouldn’t drag on for too long.  


But, it did, ineffably Crawly, the demon, coaxed a smile onto the angel’s face and he seemed to revel in it - his own breaking out, lighting up his face, and setting his citrine eyes ablaze in the newborn Sun. The beams setting his red hair ablaze, startling against an ominous sky.  


As thunder clouds gathered, and their conversation turned from one of reluctant politeness to one of oddly familiar ease, Aziraphale outstretched a wing to invite the demon closer. Something he did unconsciously. When the first rain fell down in Eden, the angel had the thought that maybe this was what he was missing all along. A friend.  


It was nice not to feel so alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes: First, the title (as you can probably tell) is taken from Taylor Swift's song, 'The Archer,' which I thought was the perfect song for Crowley. It inevitably inspired this fic. Secondly, this is part one of a Two-Shot fic, which will be called 'The Prey' and will be posted on here shortly. So, if you enjoyed this story please keep an eye out for the follow-up. Finally, as this is my first fanfic, I would greatly appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism you have! Thank you! (Also, I own nothing. That should be a given.)
> 
> **Edit 08/19/2019: You can now find me on Tumblr under whatta-peacch. Follow me there for more writing updates!**


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